


so be it, so of love

by hangingdog



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, and then john is a little emo boy for .. 700 words, hand holding, that is literally it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingdog/pseuds/hangingdog
Summary: If neither of them know what they’re doing, nobody else needs to know either.alternative title: commas, the fic
Relationships: Javier Escuella/John Marston
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	so be it, so of love

**Author's Note:**

> title from “now that i’m older” by sufjan stevens, entirely unrelated 
> 
> yes i hate summaries

John reaches out, without thinking, puts his hand on Javier’s shoulder. A small gesture of gratitude, or something, for what he isn’t too sure. It only takes him a moment to realize before he quickly withdraws his hand.

“It’s okay, you can,” says Javier, and nothing else.

For a moment it catches him off guard, because the only time Javier’s ever let John touch his shoulders or anywhere near his neck was when John was practically bleeding out in the mountains. But oh, okay. John timidly — for the first time in his life, he does something  _ timidly  _ — puts his hand back on Javier’s shoulder, lets it linger there. Then lets it drop to Javier’s forearm. The other man just takes a breath, not making any motion to shove him off.

So John takes a gamble, slides his hand further down to Javier’s. It’s softer than his, but more scarred. Little nicks from his knife and something on his palm — a huge tear expanding from just below his thumb to where his wrist starts — that seems to be from a big cat or something clawing into it. Javier’s clearly lived a long and hard life, if all his scars are anything to go by. 

Surprisingly, Javier’s the one to intertwine their fingers. John squeezes his hand back, in a small attempt to reciprocate. He’s not quite sure what they’re doing, or what this means, or if this is really going to amount to anything because it almost never does.

They sit at the fire with their hands between them for a while, until Pearson comes by and sits himself down on the log across from them. Javier drops his hand, which John thinks was pretty much to be expected. If neither of them know what they’re doing, nobody else needs to know either.

Pearson drones on and on about the Navy he was hardly part of. Tilly comes by to listen and to get away from Grimshaw. Eventually, Javier wanders off to go smoke, and it takes every ounce of self control in John’s body not to follow behind him. 

What would he even do if he had? Holding hands with Javier was, all in all, a one-off thing born out of a moment of… what? Vulnerability? Something along those lines. He and Javier had toed that line many times before, but had never fully decided to make the trip across. 

There was a lot standing in the way of that being a possibility, first and foremost Jack and Abigail certainly complicated things. And beyond that, getting involved emotionally with  _ anybody  _ in their line of work was practically asking to be hurt and worried at every turn. Additionally, John wasn’t very good at expressing his thoughts, and Javier wasn’t exactly winning any awards for being communicative.

Though John would be lying if he said he never thought about it, especially on nights when it was just him and Javier waiting for the sun to rise, although they never really got physically close — they both had a pretty strong aversion to physical touch, Javier admittedly moreso than John — it always felt … intimate, in a way, to be alone together like that. To share flasks, to eat off the same knife, to sleep in the same tent.

He couldn’t imagine telling Javier, though, of times spend daydreaming about a life where they can be normal and caring to each other, away from the outlaw life, away from the gang. Especially considering Javier’s undying loyalty. Bringing up anything related to a life outside the gang would make his head spin.

So, all in all, pretty good reasons they never quite acknowledged anything. Although this — the hand-holding — the very allowance of physical touch in the first place, felt like something. Something different than the same-old, same-old of dancing around things and pointedly avoiding any conversation relating to them. All John can hope for now is that it goes up from here. Maybe the times spent thinking about what it’d be like to feel Javier’s lips on his wouldn’t be for nothing.

Or — and it’s more likely that this will be the outcome of this all, considering the circumstances — one of them makes a wrong move, and it’s all shattered. But that’s a depressing idea to face, and while John likes to be realistic — if a little cynical — he doesn’t really want to ponder on that possibility much longer.

It’s all very odd, and above all, John doesn’t want to risk losing his friendship with Javier over a miscommunication or a failed attempt at … something. Whatever this may be.

So, as has become the norm, he’ll do nothing about it. And he’s sure if he told Dutch or Hosea about that, they’d tell him to never set  _ love  _ aside for fear, and he’d argue that it isn’t  _ love  _ because of course it isn’t, but it wouldn’t mean anything, ultimately.

He gets up from the log he’s been sitting on and wanders off to his tent. It’s getting late. He’s on watch in the morning. And so it goes.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry/thx
> 
> i’ll eventually post a longer fic. or maybe i won’t! it is a mystery!
> 
> my twitter is erokauy, i talk about red dead a lot! you should follow


End file.
